Omar could always tell when Brandon was in 'one of those' moods. He knew it: he felt it. It was Brandon's quietness that always alarmed him. It was a physical hush that rang through Brandon's entire being: voiceless in his stance, his walk, his demeanor, his mannerism, his smile . . . his eyes. And, whenever he was like this, it was the 'devil' to draw him out of it. Omar found that this quietness is a deep hurt that has an unknown origin. It hovers like a shadow: always lurking infringing on their happiness. At first, 'it' was mistaken as aloofness. Brandon being 'young', Omar took this as uncertainty. So he vowed to let Brandon have enough space to make his own decision about their relationship. Brandon's own choice. No matter how hard his heart ached just at the sight of him. Omar made the decision to 'take it slow'. Yeah, slow, this was and had to be the only way. There was something about this lanky, firebrick redhead that burned his soul. Just hearing his voice, seeing those dimples, that mouth, those beautiful brown eyes caused him to melt. Brandon had to be his. Yeah, Omar was determined to not let this one go. Just thinking about him causes him to shiver and stirs a lower part of his anatomy quite well.

And, speak of the devil . . .

Brandon comes in and immediately flops down on the bed. Omar eyes his mood, "Hey 'na!"

 

Nothing.

 

Quiet.

 

Omar continues to watch Brandon: he resists throwing his arms around him; engulfing him and swallowing all the quiet hurt and sorrow that looms around him. He waits and fights back the urge to also ask: the who, the what, and the where of 'his abouts' for the last three days. Omar remembers his vow. And, trying desperately to penetrate that mood, Omar repeats himself and offers a simple chopper-smile: "Hey 'na 'Yo". Brandon slowly smiles back. The mood has started to crack. Omar reaches over and lightly punches Brandon in his abdomen. With this 'tap', Brandon's mood starts to unravel: he lightly giggles.

The evening is definitely off to an interesting beginning . . .

The tap leads to roughhousing. Brandon and Omar playfully punch at each other. Before either one knows, there is more to it than simple play. Arms and legs are everywhere: so much so, 'whose is whose' is beginning to blur and be the anatomical question of the day. When the wrestling starts to get too intense, Omar decidedly draws back, ending play. Something has some how changed: that friendly line has been crossed. Once playful, now the atmosphere has taken on an entirely different mood . . . more sensual

Brown eyes wide and narrowing, Brandon sheepishly stares at Omar and 'wishes'.

Cautiously, Omar offers a response: "Don't start! I can't be held responsible for what might happen, Brandon."

"Don't worry, I know what I am doing . . .and I especially know what I want. And, don't say 'you're to young' neither. First of all, true I may be 'young'; but I'm old enough. And, second, Omar, . . . Omar, I simply want you!" With more determined eyes, Brandon slowly leans forward with both of his hands on Omar's knees and closes what little distance that remained between caution and hungry desire.

Brandon has never done seduction before. He hopes like hell that this tactic will work and have its affect. He methodically continues to stare into Omar's slightly composed eyes, drawing evermore closer to his desired 'want - wish'.

"Brandon . . . Brandon, please think about . . ." Omar' reluctance trails off, distracted by Brandon's maddening approach. All Omar could see was 'beauty' getting closer and closer. As the vision nears, Omar is surprised how clearly he could see every poised detail of his face: the eyes, long curved lashes, slight freckles, nose, chin, . . . aahhhh, dimples, lips and mouth. And, oooohhhhh, what a beautiful, kiss-demanding mouth!

"Bran . . .". Omar 's last plea is cut-short as Brandon reaches his destination. He cradles himself directly on top of Omar and tries to kiss him. Brandon's kisses meet non-verbal resistance: Omar flinches and twists at every attempt. More determined, Brandon grabs hold of Omar's head in both of his hands and finally . . .

With one feverish brush; both are set on fire. Drawing back, Omar and Brandon searchingly stare into each other's dark eyes and see destiny.

Brandon has gotten what he wanted, but he does not feel victorious. He feels scared and confused. "What th' fuck? ! ! ! Wait, what just happened?" he asks. Without answering and concentrating on that mouth, Omar pulls Brandon to him. And, with slow mounting passion returns Brandon's kiss with his own.

Holding Brandon firmly by both wrists, Omar roguishly smiles as he slowly approaches that demanding-mouth with soft, soft lips.

On target, Omar starts out soft and passionate; but with desire mounting and his own resistance fading, the kiss gets rough. At first, Omar wants to taste and savor every nook, corner, groove, tooth, and palette in Brandon's mouth. However, with such an invitingly smooth and soft entry, Omar's tongue starts to maneuver all on its own and Brandon's throat becomes its destination. His tongue has a new plan; it wants to probe and devour.

Omar drops Brandon's wrists, grabs his face with both hands, and allows his tongue to take as much of a liquid, wet plunge as possible down Brandon's throat. Brandon's loud groans let Omar know that he has disarmed all of Brandon's acute hesitation. Omar dives deeper. Both moan! "Ymmmm" is all that can be heard. Perspiring and panting Omar and Brandon reluctantly release one another. It is time for air!

Brandon staggers. Omar, concerned, wraps Brandon in his arms to steady him. "Wwwoe, hey you aight ? ! ?" Embarrassed and with eyes toward the floor, Brandon can only shake his head. Blushing, "The room . . . the room's spinnin'" Brandon finally says as his eyes slightly roll back. Omar hugs Brandon more tightly and feels small tremors deep within him. Seconds pass as they firmly hold each other, interlocked together. "So . . .this is the effect that I have on . . ." Omar words are cut-short. Bright-eyed and alert now, Brandon initiates the kiss once again.

Based on the first and now confirmed by the latest two kisses, Brandon knowingly breathes into Omar's ear . . . " Now I . . . I know I love you, Omar . . . I know it ! ! ! "

With his fingers entangled in Brandon's thick curly hair, 'these words' resonate deep within him. The 'wet plunge' continues and much later ends in one wordless gasp.

This time both Omar and Brandon feel the room tilt . . .

Speechless, Omar hugs Brandon closer to him and much, much, much tighter. How could he tell Brandon that what he feels goes beyond his beautiful declaration? That each time he saw him that something deep inside tore! That kissing him and holding him like this actually hurts him! That he wanted Brandon so much that it is taking every reasonable ounce of self-control within him to not tear into his clothes and him! That every time that he looks into his eyes he's lost and only he can find him again! That his vowed patience is running thin. So thin that if they don't stop now, he won't be able to control his passion, his need for him. That their souls were already knitted because they have 'known' each other 'several past lives' ago. How can he tell Brandon . . . how could he tell him this without sounding insane! ! !

So, Omar simply hugs him and hopes that Brandon would soon understand what is meant in an "I love you" declaration. Until then, he had to be 'more' . . . more patient. Content with the now that will most definitely grow into a future: an our future! ! !

Being hugged, Brandon groans. In spite of all the layers of clothes that he was wearing, Omar was managing to squeeze the life out of him . . . and he liked it! ! ! His body is and shall always be Omar's to command. This is what he hopes for, what he prays for, what he wishes for . . . "So why not show him that he is my world? ! ?" Brandon ponders. That his voice, his eyes, his smile, his touch, his . . . his scar excites him to no end! ! ! That each time he is away from him, he is in agony. That no man can mean as much to him as he does. That he is in his every waking and dream-filled thought. That each time his eyes close, Omar's there. That he wants to come and stay with him forever, but is too afraid of what the 'other he' will do. That these past three days have been utter hell without him. That . . .

So . . . so . . . why the fuck not . . . why not show him . . .

 

 

" . . . You just might get it . . . "

Again, Omar felt Brandon's hands on his thighs, moving slowly up toward his crotch. "Hhhmmmm, assertive isn't he? What did happen these past few days?" Omar thought. With what Brandon's hands were doing allowed Omar to toy a little with the possibilities that may lie ahead. Yet, the thought "Brandon is young," kept ringing in his head and fed his resistance. 'Young', or was it that he thought that he was too old for 'this' . . . 'taking kin': love? Just as quickly as the thoughts formed, Brandon's roaming hands on his thighs made all those thoughts and questions dissolve and disappear. He let the feeling build and pressed his legs just a little, jerkily, against Brandon. Brandon moved closer and started doing something to his ear, making it wet and warm. "I love you," Brandon breathed. Then he cried out, his voice edged with frustration. "Please! O, do it! I . . . I want . . . you to . . ."

"What?" Omar said, feeling nervous and shaky. "What?"

Brandon moved against him and sat up with his face close to Omar's. Time had become meaningless. The room had grown dark. Time had passed too quickly; night had come. And in that darkness, Omar couldn't make out his features. If he could see, he would have seen soft tears pooling in Brandon's dimples. However, all that Omar could barely make out was that his starter-stubble face reflected an eerie light. It was so faint, yet it gave Brandon's skin an indistinct glow. "This!" Brandon whispered. He kissed Omar then, a real kiss, warm and deep. And Omar kissed back hard, amazed that they found their mouths in the dark. Brandon's lips were full and warm against his, and he recalled how hard he fought to resist doing anything like this when he first met Brandon. They kissed until it felt too familiar, and the only sounds were their excited breathing and the soft puckering and sucking of their lips. The sweet smell of Brandon drove Omar crazy.

They pulled at each other's clothes and Brandon ran his hands under Omar's shirt and had entwined himself so much that he now wore it. Omar's hands had only one destination. Omar's hands slowly roamed down the back of Brandon's Levi's. Slowly caressing every inch of him. Nothing but soft moans came from Brandon. With the little resistance that he thought he had now gone, Omar pulled at Brandon's belt, unbuttoned his pants, and slid his own hands down into the warmth of Brandon's crotch. What he found there confirmed in his mind that Brandon knew exactly what he wanted. So, fumbling gently with the underwear he had exposed, with the tips of his fingers, Omar would not yield to his own imagined resistance any longer. He was determined to please Brandon. Omar felt the washed-worn elastic band of his underwear against the soft skin of Brandon's abdomen, then his pubic hairs. Yet, the way they had ended up sitting posed a challenge: it was hard to get at him. Brandon was crushed up tight against his chest. Omar lay down on the bed and pulled Brandon on top of him. He slid both hands back into Brandon's boxers, and roughly pushed them off his unbelievably smooth ass. Brandon groaned knowing that what he always imaged and dreamed for was so close, so close. In turn, he helped Omar shed his own 'T' and, in a few quick strokes, they were naked and lay crushed against each other. The heat of Omar's naked skin against him, the throbbing of the hard, slick flesh pressing against his own made Brandon cry out. He tried to move away, realizing that maybe this was too intense for him. What Omar would want, could he give him that? Just the thought of this beautiful, powerful man next to him caused Brandon to begin gasping and shaking. Holding him firmly, Omar whispered into Brandon's ear . . . "How sweet! Damn Brandon, we haven't done anything yet." Omar let go, as well. In this heated frenzy, Omar has to claim him. He bites down on Brandon's soft supple lips, and tastes blood. In a few seconds, both of their stomachs had become slick, sticky, wet.

Brandon and Omar hold each other tightly until the initial wave of ecstasy has passed. Within moments, what is dared said is said . . . again and again.

"Oh God, I love you . . ." penetrates the dark musky air.

Looking into Omar's eyes, Brandon turns slowly over on to his stomach. With his face half buried into the mattress and eyeing Omar's every move, Brandon waits patiently. Omar, recognizing Brandon's familiar need as his own, straddles Brandon's back. Starting at his shoulders, Omar lovingly caresses Brandon, very, very slowly. Brandon shudders as the massage ends with hard tugs on his rear. Omar feeling Brandon quake licks his back from the nape of the neck down to his two soft, smooth mounds. This wet trail causes Brandon to fist-clinch the sheets and yell out in anticipation to what he imagined would be next. Yet, all he could do was eagerly watch. Brandon knew that his body was no longer his to command. Omar had definitely taken care of that. With each electrifying touch from Omar, it would respond, responding only to him: no matter how much control he tried to maintain.

So, it surprised Brandon when he heard Omar quietly say, "Turn over." The mind was puzzled but the body obeyed. Still confused, Brandon stares up into deep dark beautiful brown eyes and nervously smiles. Omar bends down and pries open that smile with his tongue. He moans at the taste of Brandon as they kiss. His roaming fingers dig into Brandon's butt cheeks. With that touch Brandon's body levitates to Omar and strains to press itself into his flesh. Omar reluctantly releases Brandon's mouth and starts another wet trail. This time he begins at Brandon's starter-stubble chin and works his way downward. Nothing could be heard except for the wet smacks he made, echoing through out the room. As Omar's second wet trail reaches Brandon's groin area, Brandon lets go of the sheets and places his hands on Omar's head. Straining to regain control, he tries to guide Omar in the direction in which he wants him to go. Yet again, his body would have none of it. His body still will only respond to Omar's wet sucks. Brandon then knew that he was powerless and allowed Omar to continue his well-mapped journey.

On command, as a response to Omar's wet kisses to his inner-thighs, Brandon's legs spread wider. Omar teasingly kisses every special spot, freckle, and place down there, except for Brandon's engorged throbbing cock. The pleasure that Omar had elicited was agonizing. Brandon's entire body twisted and wilted: it had no more patience. Brandon's heightened groans and moans had now started to become breathless pleas: "Omar, Omar . . ." Still not fully recovered from the first wave of ecstasy, Brandon's cock quickly unfurls into full erection. Omar, realizing his own is straining for attention too, raises up on both hands and delays no longer. He takes Brandon's hardness deep into his mouth. The soft warm impact of his cock inside of Omar's wet mouth causes Brandon to involuntarily sit-up. Dazed, he feels Omar's muffled giggles against his skin as Omar's hands gently push him back down on the bed. Omar kisses, sucks, chews, and bites Brandon into a wilting frenzy. So close, so close . . .

"No, no . . . no Omar! No. Stop, stop! ! !" Brandon begs and cries out. Omar, again realizing his own need, stops and releases Brandon.

Breathing heavily, he stares into Brandon's excited eyes. To Brandon that look lasted for an eternity. He tries to explain. ". . . Not without you! I, I don't want to cum again . . ." Understanding completely, Omar kisses off the rest of Brandon's breathless remark. However, this kiss allowed Brandon to know that Omar was far, far from actually stopping. The hunger in it demanded more.

Slick from perspiration, Omar wickedly smiles down at Brandon. He takes his hard cock and in one complete stroke, he thrusts it inside of Brandon. Wide-eyed, Brandon groans! ! ! The warm, tender velvet feel of Brandon causes Omar to gasp. Both quiver. Mindlessly, Brandon's body continues to respond: he unwillingly starts to suck on Omar's neck. Omar, slow at first, starts to slightly quicken his pace. With each deepening stroke, Brandon's kisses become stronger; causing raised bruises to appear and trail down Omar's neck. He wraps himself firmly around Omar and holds on for dear life. This is a hard, wickedly wild ride! Barely able to breath now, Brandon prays and willfully wishes that it would soon be over. As if on key, Omar's agonizing pace quickens again. His plunges rock Brandon back and forth. The force behind each thrust shakes the bed, mirror, and window.

"Yes, yes . . .You . . . are . . ." Brandon quietly mumbles into Omar's ear. With these four hot words placed in his ear, Omar quickens his drive into Brandon. Groans are heard through out the room as Omar penetrates deeper and deeper into Brandon. So close, so close . . . Abruptly, Omar pulls out and with his steeled head close to entry, he pauses. Staring into Brandon's watery eyes, he waits.

Fearful that Omar would not finish, Brandon starts to claw at his chest and yells: "Shit, shit, you shit!" Slowly shaking his head, Omar leans down and smothers those filthy words with soft salty kisses. He rams back into velvet. Brandon's screams are muffled. With his mouth fully covering Brandon's, Omar stabs again and again into liquid velvet. The fourth thrust sends them both into final ecstasy. Both realize that indeed the earth has moved: they both cum full force.

". . . I am yours, O. I am yours," Brandon timidly whispers.

Gasping, Omar replies: "Yeah, you're mine Brandon . . . Mine, all mine Baby Boy! ! !" and covers him with kisses.

"God! No one has ever been . . .been that deep in me, Omar. I can feel you right here under my heart!" Brandon continues to whisper.

Tired, sweaty, wet, and semi-glued to one another, Omar pulls Brandon ever closer, hugs him tightly, places his hand on his heart, and breaths into his ear . . .

"I've . . . I've just written my name there, Brandon . . . You're mine now! ! ! I love you, B! ! ! I'm . . . I'm . . . in love with you Brandon!"

As they dreamily look into each other's dark eyes, it's clear what they see. Their hearts, minds, lives, and souls are entwined into one. 'Knitted love': that FOREVER love is their destiny! ! ! And, just as quickly as they realize and live this moment, the wave starts all over again . . .

And again, and again, the waves start: from just a look, a smile, a kiss, a touch here, a touch there, a touch anywhere . . . traveling and passing through the night until dim light starts to creep in through yellow, tattered paper curtains. Both knew that this that just happened was something, something very special. Their connection to one another was set and sealed: they were mated forever.

After riding many a wave, they sleep, his front to Brandon's back, holding hands. Cracks of dawn peep through the window.

Brandon, the first to wake, sits up quickly: "Aahhh, shit! ! ! Shit! ! ! It's late . . . I'm late," as he hurriedly tries to dress. "God, I don't want to go . . . I can't go . . . I've gotta go . . . got to! ! !"

Silently, grudgingly, he reasons. Looking down at Omar, Brandon deeply sighs, clutches his heart and feels where Omar has just been. Brandon bends down, lightly kisses Omar's forehead with tear stained lips, and gently, protectively tucks him in for the night.

Half dressed and with shoes in hand, Brandon quickly walks out . . .

 

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